The Empty chessboard
by Gumnut
Summary: He had lost so much.


The Empty Chessboard  
By Gumnut  
2001

Jim Kirk looked up at the stars. They twinkled in the deep blue of the night sky, between a scattering of clouds. The air was cool and crisp and Kirk rubbed at his arms to dispel goose pimples. He knew he should have brought a jacket, but he'd left the campsite in such a hurry he'd forgotten it.

He didn't quite know where he was going, all he knew is that he wished to be alone. Alone to think.

Dry pine needles crunched beneath his feet and he couldn't help but feel them as if they were the bones of the dead. The many dead which he'd known and the many dead which he didn't yet had been responsible for.

Sometimes it was too much. Sometimes it just got to him and he felt he could stand it no longer. And sometimes he just felt like joining them.

The last couple months had been a road of pain. Twists and turns, up and downs, from elation to despair, horror to relief. To now.

And now what? He had his ship back, he had his crew and he had Spock. A fairytale ending. We can all live happily ever after.

Until next time.

And who would it be next time? McCoy? Uhura? Sulu? Spock again? Kirk sucked in his breath at the thought. No, not Spock. The thought made him tremble and he stopped under a tree, leaning against it as if to draw strength from it.

He had lost his son, his ship, his rank,…and Spock. Spock, through the luck of fate had been returned to him. But the memory remained of those few weeks without him. The echoes in his head, in the empty place where Spock had once been. The nightmares. The empty chessboard. When had Spock become so much a part of himself, an extra limb?

Now Spock was back, alive.

It is not the same. The thought came unbidden into Kirk's mind along with the realization that it was part of his problem. He missed the old Spock.

A soft crunch of foot on pine needles made him start. The moonlight etched Spock's features in ice and shadows. Kirk had a shiver of self consciousness as the Vulcan's gaze intersected with his thoughts.

"Captain."

"Spock."

Spock seemed to twitch a little self consciously, before holding up a piece of clothing. Kirk's jacket.

"You left your jacket behind."

Kirk couldn't resist a tease. "Are you mothering me, Mr Spock?"

An arched eyebrow was the response. "The current ambient air temperature is 14.7 degrees celsius, too low for the average human to comfortably maintain body temperature in your current state of dress. Doctor McCoy assures me that extended exposure to the cold will only exacerbate your current medical condition."

Kirk's head came up at that. "What medical condition?"

Spock assessed his Captain's mood. The eyes were somewhat bright and widened, lines which he did not remember before seeing etched into his face. The spark was there but faint.

"Stress-related exhaustion."

Kirk looked away and dismissed it with a hand. "I'm fine."

But the voice was strained.

Spock held up the jacket again and Kirk mentally threw up his hands and took it. He shrugged it on.

The two men stood there looking at each other in a tension filled silence. Kirk didn't quite know what to say. His thoughts were a jumble.

At last he stuttered out a thanks and turned to walk off, preferring the night alone to sort out his thoughts.

"Jim, it is me."

Kirk stopped. Spock saw his shoulders tremble. He turned, his eyes, shadowed in the dark, held question and his lips parted to query. Spock hastened on.

"It is me, Jim. I am here." Spock's hands moved to his chest.

"Yes, Mr Spock, I know." The steel of formality came over Kirk, and Spock almost had to step back as Jim's emotional defences came online. Kirk wheeled and walked off into the darkness.

A lone bird screeched in the darkness, as if in mockery. Spock stared at the spot where Kirk had been. He knew Jim was in pain. He knew he was partly the cause. But he knew not what to do to fix it.

Even now pale ghosts of emotional pain echoed in the back of his mind where his sense of Kirk dwelt. He could no longer see Jim, but his presence remained.

His thoughts drifted back to the moment after fal tor pan, when laying his eyes on Kirk for the first time, the link had sparked, flickered and burst back into life. "Jim…your name is Jim." Kirk had smiled at him then, the pure joy infusing his face with light. But underneath, even in Spock's confused state, he had sensed a darkness, a tension that hammered at his friend, and it had gotten worse.

Kirk's sense of duty had kept him going through the trip back in time, through the trial, even through their vacation. Spock felt, however, that Kirk's pain was inevitably wearing him away.

El Capitan

Spock had caught him, yes, but as he held him mere inches from the ground, Spock had been shocked to feel the emotions running through his Captain.

Kirk was almost disappointed that he had been saved! While he sported with McCoy and made fun of himself, Spock, hanging onto his ankle, had felt the dread of life itself, going through Kirk's mind.

And tonight.

Nothing that Spock could see had really happened. They had had an interesting day bushwalking in the National Park followed by an evening meal and a chess game near the campfire. McCoy, complaining of old age and hard worn muscles, had retired early, leaving Jim and Spock to finish another game of chess.

Jim had been winning, when looking up from the chess set, Kirk's eyes had locked onto Spock and widened. He had abruptly gone pale, stood up, mumbled some apology and left.

Spock didn't deny that the jacket had been an excuse to follow, to somehow help his friend in some way.

And he'd been rebuffed.

Spock hesitated momentarily and the followed his Captain into the forest.

Where there had been soft pine needles before, there were now stones. Every tree, every bush seemed to conspire to scratch at him or catch his hair, but he still went on, he had to get away, be alone and think.

He knew Spock was concerned, the jacket had been a ploy, but he couldn't face him, not yet. He had to work this out in his own head.

Kirk wandered in the dark like this for several hours, almost blindly, his mind deep in thought. He little noticed the wind pick up and was momentarily surprised by raindrops spattering on his face. Looking once again up into the sky, he no longer saw the stars, they had been obscured by clouds. Rain got in his eyes.

Logic told him to return to the campsite, but that thought in itself reminded him of why he was out here in the first place. He did not want to go back.

The rain increased, it soaked through his hair and ran down his neck, but oddly he didn't care. In fact he walked out into a clearing letting the water soak into his clothes. He raised his head, closed his eyes and let the downpour spatter on his face. It was exhilarating. He wanted, for the moment, not to think, just to feel the sensations, let the rain wash the pain away.

But it didn't, it couldn't. It was raining heavily now and the wind had picked up further. Kirk was icy cold, but still he did not head back to camp. He couldn't. Thought warred with thought, images flashed through his mind. Khan, Carol, David, Saavik, his beloved Enterprise in flames, Genesis…and Spock – it always came back to Spock. Spock hanging upside down from a tree, Spock raising an eyebrow in response to a tease, Spock across the chessboard, Spock bodily spinning him around in joy at the sight of his Captain, alive and well. Kirk could never forget that smile.

Spock, dying of radiation exposure, falling to the floor of the Enterprise engine room.

Kirk hugged himself, shivering. Spock had died. That Spock, the Spock with the smile of joy for his Captain, had died. It was as if his first officer was a cardboard facsimile. It wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair!

Kirk was surprised to feel warm tears intermingled with the rain on his face. His throat was raw and his body was trembling, huddled on the wet ground.

My god, what is wrong with me? He shivered in the rain.

A warm hand touched his face. Kirk flinched away, turning to find the primary object of his thoughts mere inches from him.

"Captain, we must find shelter." Spock's hair was plastered to his head and water ran down his face and dripped off his nose, his eyes squinting against the rain. He also looked as if he would bodily pick up his Captain and carry him to shelter if necessary.

Kirk's thoughts spun and he attempted to stumble away, but Spock's hand clamped on his wrist and his grip was like iron.

"Let me go, Spock."

"Captain, I…"

"Let me go!" Kirk continued to struggle.

"Jim, what are you running from?"

"LET ME GO!"

"NO!" Spock's shout froze them both. "I will not let you go silently into the night." The tone was level, but emotion laden. "Jim, what are you running from?"

The look of fear in Kirk's eyes chilled Spock to the bone. His Captain was sitting on the wet ground in the rain, tears intermingling with the water on his face, looking completely lost and afraid.

"Jim, I…"

A whisper interrupted him.

"It's not you, Spock." The statement by itself was a brush off, but through his hand on Kirk's wrist he knew it meant something else entirely.

"It is me, Jim."

Kirk's eyes widened, then looked away. "No you're not." He moved to pull away again, but Spock caught his other wrist.

"Jim, I am here. I am alive. I am well. You brought me back. We are together once again." A part of Spock felt like shaking the truth into his Captain.

"It's not the same!" The half-shout was echoed mentally and Spock had to step back, involuntarily releasing Kirk's wrists.

Kirk stood up, hugged his arms to himself, turned and walked to the edge of the clearing. The rain was slackening, the forest quietening.

"Jim, I need you." Kirk stopped, the echo of words he'd said long ago on Spock's return from Vulcan. The pain in Spock's voice was almost unbearable and tears once again came to Kirk's eyes. He turned towards Spock and pleaded. "But you are not there anymore."

Kirk's anguish was a wave of liquid emotion that washed over Spock just as realization set in. Tentatively he probed his link with Kirk, it was there, Spock felt it. He sensed Kirk in every way, his emotions and his presence were clear in his mind. But what if…

"Jim, can you sense me?" Kirk started slightly in surprise. Spock had never spoken openly about the link resonance between them, it had become as a given until…Spock had died. His mind fled from the thought.

Spock watched Kirk flinch as if in answer. Spock moved towards him.

"Jim, I can sense you. I can sense your pain. Let me help." Kirk flinched again, pain naked on his face. He looked as if to flee, but then a resigned helplessness set in and from the bottom of a pit of despair, Kirk whispered. "Help me, Spock."

Kirk felt five points of warmth settle on his face, interfacing with his meld points and the world dissolved around him.

Spock slipped gently into Jim's mind, horrified by the pain in all directions. He saw flashes from the past few months, the anguish and the loneliness of his own absence, the echo of his own father's meld with Kirk and its reopening of wounds, and there, in the back of Kirk's mind was the bleeding sore of his broken link with Spock.

Torn at the moments of Spock's death, it had festered with the repeated stresses required of his Captain, scarred under the innumerable pressures of Sarek's mind meld and Spock's own rebirth. It had only been the Captain's indomitable spirit that had kept him going, and that was at its last.

"Jim."

"Spock! It's you!" Kirk's joy battered down the pain. Their meeting of minds was joyous and Kirk basked in Spock's presence. "You're here! You're back!" Kirk's mind danced.

"Jim." Spock's voice sobered him. "Jim, there is damage. I had not realised this before. I had thought being human…" Spock's thoughts stumbled. "I should have known."

A mental smile, warmth and golden shadows. Spock responded with a knowing mental eyebrow. "I should know better than to underestimate you, my T'hy'la."

At the Vulcan word, Kirk cringed, his emotional resources failing under the power of the word. Spock lifted his burden, supporting Kirk with his mind.

"Jim, I must attempt to repair the link, it is draining you. You must seek healing."

Kirk shuddered under Spock's fingertips. "Spock, I don't know if I could stand losing you again." The terror of the thought brought Kirk's fears to the fore, almost throwing Spock out of the meld.

"Jim, I am here. I am not leaving. We will heal together."

At that statement, Spock intertwined his mind with Kirk's, sort the torn link, and bridged the bond of brotherhood.

Kirk gasped, his body arching under Spock's hand.

Spock silently slipped out of the meld.

"Spock, don't go!" Kirk tried to make him stay, then realised Spock hadn't actually left.

Spock was Spock, Kirk was Kirk, but the bond bound them together.

"You are there again. I can feel you in my mind. You don't know how much I missed that." Kirk mumbled that last, before finally drifting into an exhausted sleep.

"Yes, I do." Spock whispered.

Spock gathered his Captain in his arms and started to make his way back to the campsite where he was sure he would find an extremely aggravated Chief Medical Officer.

Above him the sky cleared once more and the stars shone through once again, awaiting their return.

-o-o-o-


End file.
